


FLY

by finching



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Amazingphil - Freeform, Angst, Angst with an Angsty Ending, DAN AND PHIL - Freeform, Dan Howell - Freeform, Death, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, High School AU, Lucid Dreaming, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, No Smut, Phan - Freeform, Phan Angst, Phan Fluff, Phanfiction, Phil Lester - Freeform, Sad, So many tags, Trigger warning maybe, angst angst angst, danisnotonfire - Freeform, dead, dead af, fluff with an angsty ending, hella sad, phan highschool au, phanfic, really sad, sexy chickens, such innocence no smut so pure, trigger warning, trigger warning probs lmao, yoloswag thats a tag now what are u gonna do about it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-05-29 04:07:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6358705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finching/pseuds/finching
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes nightmares occur when you're awake. Phil Lester learns this the hard way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Phil’s mother rubbed her forehead and sighed.  
“I’m going to fly. Goodnight, sweetheart.” She says, wetly kissing Phil’s forehead and trudging tiredly up the stairs to go to bed. Phil put his late-night cereal bowl in the sink that was perpetually dripping, and disappeared to his own room, still wide awake. He fell onto his bed and sprawled out over the multicoloured duvet, staring at the dull, white ceiling. 

He fantasized a bit about what it’d be like to live in a giant house. A house with more than one story. A house with more than one bathroom where the sinks did their jobs and the shower wasn’t an icebox. A house with windows that protected the interior of the house from wild weather, and where there wasn’t mold growing on the floor below them. He concluded that it would be nice, and left it at that, choosing not to dwell on the thought too much.

He grabbed his book off the nightstand, flipping through the dusty pages until he found where he left off. A silverfish wiggled out from between the pages and landed on Phil’s shirt, where he swept it off onto the floor without a second thought. He lied for hours, his nose in his book, late into the night, until his arms couldn’t hold it above his face anymore, and he drifted off to sleep, with dreams of nice houses and squirmy silverfish.

The next morning, he awoke, the sun shining through the window, his book by his side. He sat up in his bed for about fifteen minutes, feeling lazy and unmotivated. He rolled off the bed and padded into the kitchen sleepily. His mum was still sleeping, which wasn’t irregular, as it was a weekend, and she wanted all the flying time she could manage to get. He grabbed the cereal box out of the cupboard, brushed numerous ants off the cardboard, and quickly poured himself a bowl, hoping that his mum wouldn’t come downstairs and discover that Phil was taking her cereal. Again.

He thought as he devoured his breakfast. He thought about his mother’s flying. He thought of what it’d be like to fly. The way she described it, the passionate look in her eyes, it seemed amazing. He wanted to learn. He’d ask her today, he decided, after she woke up. He hoped that she’d teach him. He hoped she wouldn’t brush him off and tell him that he was too young to understand, which he’d been told quite a lot lately, as he’d started to question things “adult related”.

After approximately an hour, Phil’s mum came down the stairs and poured herself cereal, and Phil hoped she wouldn’t notice that the box was almost empty. After her short breakfast, Phil saw an opportunity to ask, as she was just sitting on the couch, sipping her coffee.  
“Mum?” Phil said timidly.  
His mum grunted as a reply.  
“Uh, could you teach- teach me how to fly?” He asked. Mrs. Lester’s head shot up, and Phil shied away from her, expecting her to be angry, expecting a lecture or something of the sort, but her eyes were shining with pride.  
“I just knew you’d ask someday!” She said excitedly. “Would you like to learn right away? Right now? I’d be happy to teach you now! Yes! Let’s start now.”  
“Okay, that’d be good, Mum.” Phil said, slightly surprised by his mother’s enthusiasm.  
“Great! Great. Okay, it will take a bit of time, but it’s worth it. What you have to do is plug your nose.” She says. “You see, if you plug your nose, and you can still breathe, you’re dreaming. If you can’t, you’re awake. You have to plug your nose to make sure you’re awake often, until it becomes subconscious, then you’ll start doing it in your dreams, and you’ll realize that you’re dreaming and you’ll be able to control it.” She said all in a rush, and Phil didn’t mention that fact that he’s only 11, and he doesn’t know what ‘subconscious’ means.  
“O-okay. So I just plug my nose? Like-” He squeezed his nose. “-like this?” He asked, giggling at how his voice changed. Mrs. Lester smiled brightly, and nodded. “Very good. Now do that about every hour or so, every day. You’ll be able to fly before you know it!”  
Phil grinned, and plugged his nose again. He did it every hour or so that day.

He plugged his nose every day. He did it for weeks. He wasn’t patient about it either, he plugged his nose angrily, sick of waiting. He plugged it when something good or bad happened, just to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. It became automatic in about 3 months, and he barely noticed himself doing it, which made him immensely happy. Almost 7 months later, on a cool summer night, he found himself plugging his nose again, and he could breathe. He could breathe.

Phil could fly. He could fly. He could fly wherever he wanted. He can do whatever he wanted. He went to bed sooner, and slept longer, just like Mrs. Lester. He got better, at it, too. He could lucid dream without plugging his nose. But he still did everyday, as he feared he may lose the skill.

 

He shared his dreams with Mrs. Lester often, telling about the particularly nice ones, keeping the unpleasant ones to himself. She listened attentively, and even talked about her own on occasion. He liked talking about them to his mum, she was a good listener. Phil wasn't, he'd always interrupt her to talk about a dream he'd just remembered or a thought he'd had. She never got annoyed or angry, she simply let him finish before continuing her story. She was patient with Phil, as he was a very rambunctious child, bouncing off walls and making strange animal noises.

One day Phil's mum came into his room while he was reading. She knocked on the door after she opened, which slightly irritated Phil, but he said nothing of it. 

"Phil?” She said quietly. Phil grunted in reply, not looking away from his book. 

“I have something to talk to you about.” She said, taking a step into his room. Phil’s heart sped up. Did he do something wrong? Did he leave a dish out? What could he’ve done?

“We’re moving.” She said. “To Manchester.”

Phil sat up swiftly and the corners of his lips climbed to his ears. Moving? To Manchester? His previous thoughts of fancy houses flooded back into his mind, and he started to bounce up and down on his bed, and it made an unpleasant creaking noise. Without a second thought, he brought his pointer finger and thumb up to his nose, and plugged it. He tried to breathe, but couldn’t. He was moving to Manchester!  
“When?” He asked, barely containing his excitement. Mrs. Lester chuckled.  
“In about a year, sweetheart.” She said. Phil cringed slightly at the word ‘sweetheart’ and slumped back down into the dent in his mattress. A whole year?  
“Sorry. Your father won’t be home until next year. He’s working on a big project.”  
His mum patted his head clumsily and stepped out of the room without another word. 

Phil sighed wearily and turned over on his side. His cat, Susan, leaped up onto his bed, and he pet his lifelong friend thoughtfully. Just a year, he thought, then we’ll move out of this dump. Phil wished his dad would return home. He was gone on business trips for a good portion of the year, sometimes including the holidays. The times Mr. Lester was home, Phil tried to tell him about his dreams, his skill, but his father wouldn’t listen. He’d always say that there was work to be done, even when there wasn’t

***  
About a year later, after Phil’s birthday had passed and so did the holidays. Snow floated to the ground gently, then melted when the spring came around. His father finally returned home, and Phil greeted him with a half-hearted hug. He told them to start packing their things in his loud bark of a voice, and they obliged.

Phil had to decide if he was going to play or wear various objects in the process of packing. He certainly didn’t pack his Game Boy or Tamagotchi, but threw the scratchy brown sweater he’d gotten for Christmas the previous year in his suitcase. After a couple hours of tough decisions, Phil decided to have a break, and walked into the kitchen.

There he found Mr. and Mrs. Lester frantically running out the door, yelling “Susan!” Over and over. Phil rushed out the door after them, confused, but he had no time to ask them what’s happening, as they were already darting after something grey and white. 

It was Susan.

Phil felt his world collapse. Maybe he was being dramatic (he is only twelve), but Susan was the one who’d been with him through thick and thin. She’d endured the dog that they fostered for a couple months. She survived the week where Phil got a new video game, and forgot to feed her.

And she was running away.

Phil couldn’t believe it. His Susan, dashing through the grass. He felt tears welling up in his eyes, and fought them back, choosing instead to tear after Susan. His parents had since given up, as Susan had disappeared under some bushes, but Phil wouldn’t give in. He skidded to a stop right in front of the bushes, and started to shake them roughly. 

Susan sprinted away, and Phil ran after her. But he was too slow. Susan got under the fence leading to the big factory next to Phil’s neighbourhood. There was nothing he could do to help Susan now.

No matter how hard Phil tried, he couldn’t hold back the hot tears that were now streaming down his face. He dropped to his knees dramatically, and plugged his nose. It wasn’t a dream. 

That night, Phil reminisced on the time spent with Susan as he lied in his bed. He’d gotten her when he was just six, and she had hated him, hissing and spitting when he had been in the same room as her. Eventually, she learned to love him. 

It seemed like a lifetime before Phil fell asleep, and he chose to let his dreams take him where they wanted, and he dreamed of Susan, and how her life would be outside the old house. She'd hunt and find friends who'd help her along the way. She'd have a grand journey, with no one to hold her captive, or limit her freedom. She'd be as free as Phil in his dreams, and that made him happy, and almost glad Susan ran away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three years after the Susan incident, Dan and Phil meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY this took me forever. I worked really hard on it, as I couldn't think of how to start the chapter. I've gotten it now. (Also, I changed the first chapter so if I didn't mention Susan the cat, go read the first chapter.)

Three years after the incident with Susan, Phil was having a particularly pleasant dream, in which he was hovering over a giant farm in what he imagined was America, with golden fields and bright green grass. Cows were grazing and foals playing, but his dream was spoiled by the violent screech of his alarm clock. He groaned and rubbed his hand over his face, yawning dramatically. He rose slowly, taking a moment to realize what day it was. First day of school. Great.

He made his way wearily to the dresser, which was plastered head to toe with stickers of all kinds. Why his 11-year-old self decided to put them on his dresser was a complete mystery to Phil. He shuffled into the kitchen, not bothering with breakfast. He never ate in the mornings, and always regretted that decision during second period, when his stomach would growl unnecessarily loudly to alert him that he was, in fact, really fucking hungry. He brushed his teeth, and half-assed his hair, because it defied all products and efforts to make it lay straight. 

Mr. and Mrs. Lester were already at work, so Phil had no one to wake up to but his Tamagotchi, who he’d named Susan, after his old cat. Phil missed Susan a lot, his thoughts often drifting to her during school when the teachers would drone on in their trademark monotone teacher voices. He’d doodle little pictures of her on his worksheets and notebooks. He missed his best friend.

Phil didn’t wish to be late to school, so he threw on his sweater, and rushed out the door. Then he ran back into the house after he realized he’d forgotten his bag. 

The weather was pleasant, which was quite rare for living in England. He heard an ambulance whizzing around to get to its destination, sirens blaring. Phil hummed quietly to himself as he walked to school. When he was about a mile down the road, he heard heavy footsteps. They certainly weren’t his, as Phil walked very lightly and gently. He stopped and listened for a bit, not wanting to turn around in case it were some kind of murderer or something, but the footsteps stepped on. 

He walked for a bit more, and the person or thing behind him began to walk faster, and heavier, and Phil heard soft humming. He stopped again to listen in case- BAM! 

Something slammed into him from behind, and he stumbled forward. Finally, he turned around to see a tall boy with black headphones covering a mess of brown hair.

“S-shit. Sorry, I didn’t- I mean- I’m so sorry.” He stuttered nervously, his eyes cast to the pavement, and he ripped his headphones off.

“It’s fine, I mean, I shouldn't have stopped in the first place. Sorry.” Phil made a feeble attempt to take the blame off the stranger. The stranger was still staring at the ground, and was showing no sign of moving or speaking, so Phil held out his hand. 

“My name’s Philip, but don’t call me that-nobody does. Call me Phil.” He announced, and the boy hesitated before taking his hand and shaking it weakly. His hand was sweaty, and large. He was a small deal taller than Phil, and everything about him was just, well, big.

“I’m Daniel.” The stranger- Daniel- mumbled shyly. Phil started to walk, and Daniel started to follow him with some uncertainty. 

“Okay, Dan. You don’t mind if I call you that, do you?” The dark haired boy shook his head, still eyeing the ground, occasionally glancing up at Phil when he thought he wasn’t looking.

“Good. So, Dan, where are you heading?” Phil asked stupidly. 

He didn’t let on that he was slightly nervous about meeting such an attractive boy. And he certainly didn’t think about the fact that he found this boy attractive. Dan radiated uneasiness, and didn’t look very approachable, due to his resting bitch face. Phil didn’t mind talking to strangers, but Dan was slightly intimidating, even with his insecure way of walking and speaking.

“School.” Dan said. “Obviously.” He added under his breath, which Phil pretended not to notice.  
“Cool, me too. What grade are you, then?” Phil asked, trying to keep his eyes away from Dan. Trying to be cool. Trying to not be creepy.

“10th.” Dan muttered. Phil was growing sick of these one word answers from Dan, but didn’t say anything of it.

“Me too.” He said lamely. Phil’s heart sped up. Why was he so nervous? 

“So… Are you a new student?” He asked, although it was obvious. Phil had never seen Dan at the school before, and besides, Phil knew everyone. Dan nodded, then sighed. Phil knew the feeling of being the new kid, and couldn’t help but feel bad for the boy. 

Phil brought his hand up to his face, and plugged his nose. 

Not a dream.

Phil couldn’t help but be slightly relieved that Dan hadn’t been a figment of his overheated imagination. Dan took notice of Phil’s act, and a confused look passed over his face.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Phil froze, realizing that there was another human near him, who didn’t know what the hell he was doing. It must have looked strange.

“N-nothing. It was no-nothing.” He sputters. Dan raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. Phil’s cheeks burned. It may look weird, but at least you won’t lose the skill. Phil thought, trying to cover his blush with the hood of his sweater. 

They walked in a semi-awkward silence to the school, and Phil sneaked glances at Dan, and Dan sneaked glances at Phil. The both pretended that the tints on their cheeks weren't there. Phil nearly groaned when they arrived. The Savanna Secondary School was an interesting sight. With its centuries old columns and big oak doors with brass handles, it looked fancy, but that didn’t disguise the fact that it was basically falling apart. Half the windows were shattered, and the grass outside of the school was either yellow or nonexistent. The paint was peeling off the walls, and the floor was filled with loose nails, which Phil thought was just plain unsafe.

Phil glanced over at Dan, wanting to see his reaction to the disaster. His eyebrows lowered, and the corners of his lips turned down in distaste. Phil almost chuckled at the sight. 

“Not very appealing, eh?” A small laugh tumbled out of Phil’s mouth and he looked back up at the school.

Dan scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I’ve already seen it, but did it get worse since the last time I was here?”

Phil shrugged, amused by Dan’s negative outlook on the school. They made their way to the entrance, already regretting their decision to wake up that day.


End file.
